


Hold My Hand

by papermoon2719



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 20:10:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11997081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papermoon2719/pseuds/papermoon2719
Summary: Bucky needs reassurance during a hearing.





	Hold My Hand

“You okay babe?”

You look up at Bucky, who’s nervously adjusting his collar for the eighteenth time. You feel for him, knowing that these semi-annual evaluations aren’t easy. You know that the UN had required them as part of the agreement that Bucky come to work for the Avengers, and if he doesn’t pass them he could be put back into cryo. You try not to think about that as you reach up, grabbing his hand. He sends you a nervous smile, letting out a deep breath.

“You’ll do fine, Buck,” you reassure. You glance to the door, wondering how much longer Steve’s debriefing is going to take. You’d finished yours an hour ago, and it had gone well. Bucky hasn’t had an episode in over four months, and, with the exception of the occasional bad mission, is adjusting to life outside of Stark Tower well. You think he has a real chance of being allowed to move in with you and Steve permanently, which would be huge.

You pull him over to the chairs at the opposite end of the hallway and sit, beckoning him to do the same. He does, his hand going to your knee, rubbing nervous circles into the outside of it. You cover his hand with yours, squeezing lightly as the door opens. You both look up to see Steve holding it open with his back.

“They’re ready,” he says, gesturing for you both to come in. You look to Bucky who nods, standing slowly. Steve’s hand goes to your waist when you get to him, pressing a quick kiss to your temple as you cross the threshold.

The room is massive, delegates from every country watching the three of you closely. You head for the table in the middle of the room, aware that Bucky is pressed up to your side.

“Hold my hand?” he whispers nervously, his pinky brushing yours. You feel an overwhelming surge of love as you reach over, lacing your fingers with his as you finally reach the table. 

Steve pulls your chair out for you, shooting you a small smile as you sit. Once you’re situated, you look up to the delegates in tandem. The one from India speaks, a small but severe looking woman in her 50s.

“There’s no need to be nervous, Sergeant Barnes. I think you’re going to like the decision we’ve come to.”


End file.
